


Tribulations

by FHC_Lynn



Series: Broken Windows [29]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: robot gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 10:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FHC_Lynn/pseuds/FHC_Lynn
Summary: Even Prowl learns and grows over the course of time.





	1. Questionable Loyalty

"I know you are there, Prime."

Optimus rubbed the top of his head, eyeing the head of his tactical division while trying not to look like it.

"Do you not have more punishments to mete out?"

Supposing he deserved the cold implications and still being annoyed by the sheer lack of inflection, Optimus cleared his intake. "Prowl, I'm not here to start a fight."

"I did not imply that you were," the smaller mech said, still without looking up from the holographic displays of his desk. Moved from its usual spot, however, was a tri-dee projection disc. In its projected light streams, the image of a _specific_ mech lying across an officer’s bunk, obviously deep in recharge. Spattered with dried energon, dented all over, and one arm missing, Optimus knew it had been taken just after an encounter. It bothered him that he could not remember _which_ encounter and how Sunstreaker had obtained those visible injuries.

Prowl most definitely _would_ remember, and Optimus would wager his naughty bits that factored into the picture's move on Prowl's desk. Optimus knew how Prowl thought. "You did imply that I'm some sort of aft."

"I did not imply, sir. I stated that you were before you sent me to my office," Prowl replied, still without inflection of any kind.

Earlier, Prowl's vocal opinion had been all over the medical suite. So had the stares. Optimus cleared his vents again, then sat without being invited on one of Prowl's comfortable guest chairs. In a low rumble he hoped soothed his officer, "Yes, Prowl, you did say...something of the sort. Now, you know it's just policy, and Sunstreaker--"

Prowl spun in his chair, hands slamming sharply against his desk. The displays flickered, and the tri-dee jumped. Standing up, Prowl leaned forward over his desk, boring holes through Optimus with his optics. "Policy is to listen to all sides before doling out punishment. You locked him up just to count it against time served because you _assumed_ his guilt."

"Damnit, Prowl, he admitted trying to rearrange Inferno's face--"

"And did you get Inferno to admit _why_? Did you verify it with Red Alert? Did you ask me since I was present for the altercation itself? Did you ask Ratchet about the nature of the injuries? But _I_ am biased. _I_ cannot make decisions regarding Sunstreaker."

Optimus looked down at his hands where they had clenched on his knees. Grinding his denta behind the blast mask, he forced out, "Yes. You _are_ biased. And I shouldn't have tried to reason with you."

"You want me to be biased. You want a reason to criticize my decisions regarding both of them --"

"That's not true!" Optimus shot to his pedes, towering over Prowl. The small Praxian didn't even twitch.

"Then the only other conclusion I can come to is that you despise them and wish them gone from your sight."

Optimus froze, staring at Prowl, but nothing came out.

"I do not care how you feel about them," Prowl spat out, optics glowing bright. Wings canted high and pressed firmly forward, Prowl looked no larger than usual. But his fury filled the room. "If they leave through your fault, your army will know, and I will go with them. If they die through your fault..."

He looked down at the tri-dee on Prowl's desk, and he remembered now when Sunstreaker had gotten so damaged. He had been spotting for Bluestreak. Sunstreaker had caught more of the grenade lobbed at them than Bluestreak. Ratchet had been overwhelmed with injured, after that attack, Hoist and Wheeljack had not been enough help. The walking wounded had been clamped off and mostly sent to bed for repairs in the morning. Sunstreaker had spent the night with a barely repaired Prowl. The leader of his tactical team had been taken out early by Devastator.

Optimus had not done very well, after. Without the experience of Ironhide or skills of Prowl, he never did as well. He never did well maintaining authority either, when everyone knew how very young he was. And he had never been a stern mech. Looking down into the cold light of Prowl's anger, Optimus shuddered. He was doing this all wrong, then. He needed to think.

"I'll... I'll reconsider my decision, Prowl." Optimus murmured. “Relying on my experience should not be the only factor. You are more than correct.”

Prowl watched him for a painful minute before lowering his wings. “I have work.”

“I am sorry for disturbing you, Prowl,” Optimus murmured and turned for the door. He needed to reevaluate how to lead. “Thank you for your time.”


	2. Foundation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet for Bibliotecaria_D, who wanted to see Prowl eat crow.

“You’ve been standing there an hour.”

It had not been a question, so Prowl did not answer. Instead, he flicked his panels and continued to stare silently at the wall. He kept most of his attention focused inward to analyze the evening’s events.

“Ratchet said Sideswipe will recover, and that Sunstreaker is okay.”

Again, Prowl flicked his panels without verbally responding.

Optimus fumbled for the levers of his bed. With resources dwindling, Wheeljack had tooled crude gears to replace the old powered motors in Ratchet’s medical suite. They worked, but little more could be said for the mechanisms. They were also terribly noisy.

Prowl touched Optimus’ intact arm to stop him from operating the mechanism to sit up. Prowl had left Ratchet flung across a narrow cot in his office, deep in recharge, but he suspected that Optimus’ berth would wake the medic should their Prime take it into his head to move. Their medic cared deeply for all his patients, and, as much as it perplexed Prowl, Optimus in particular.

“You should not move.”

“You were scaring me, Prowl. They are all right, aren’t they? He didn’t just tell me they were?”

“They are both recharging. As is Ratchet, for the moment.” Prowl pulled his hand back. “After stabilizing Sideswipe, he removed the slagged portions of Sideswipe’s armor to asses the damage done directly to his containment core. He has counted Sideswipe unreasonably lucky before making what repairs Sideswipe needed to remain stable through the night. I left Sunstreaker seated on the floor beside his brother. He is badly burned, but he has relatively minor internal damage. Aside from Sideswipe, you are the worst injured.”

“His core is intact? Sideswipe will be fine?” Optimus relaxed back to the berth, venting heavily in his relief. “I didn’t know if I knocked Megatron’s aim off enough…”

“That was an unfavorable risk, sir.”

“They have done the same for us,” Optimus snorted. He closed his optics. “In fact, isn’t that how they wound up in the line of that cannon?”

“Yes. Although they have never been inclined to attempt a direct assault on Megatron.”

“That’s what I’m for, isn’t it?”

Prowl could hear the smile, even if Optimus never retracted his mask now. Prowl frowned. Optimus’ right arm was crushed, his breastplate staved in, finial broken, his hip and thigh ground in an unsettling way. Optimus was healthier than Sideswipe, but not by much.

It was a far cry from just a few years ago.

“A leader should inspire and direct. Should you fall, you can do neither.”

“On the contrary. A fallen leader can become a martyr. Martyrs inspire many, and those inspired often take direction from the martyr’s life.”

Prowl scowled at Optimus. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Is that the purpose of rushing out like that? To become a martyr?”

Opening his optics, Optimus turned his head to meet Prowl’s gaze for a moment before looking through the door at nothing. “No,” he said after a long pause. "I don’t want to be a martyr. Or even a hero. I want to be _unnecessary_. I… I want to make a world where this does not happen. Where it cannot happen. Where we are one people without this violence between us. I will need all of them to make that happen. Not only those here but them as well. I know… I know that I have disappointed you in the past, Prowl. And I want to be there for the work needed.”

“You are trying to be a savior, then?”

“No. A _builder_.”

Arms folding beneath his bumper, Prowl stared at the floor for a long, silent stretch. Once, he had accused Prime of trying to drive the twins away. Like several other key members of their army, the twins were out of warrior stock. Unlike the others, they had never learned to temper their aggression.

Nor their passions.

They had not been the only ones to find themselves on the wrong side of a judgment call, but Prowl had taken Optimus to task for how often it had happened. Over the slow grind of war and destruction, Prowl had subconsciously stopped tracking Optimus’ decisions. Those at ‘home’ passed with barely a sidelong look now. Optimus spent more time listening to both sides of a fight than he did punishing them. Often, those punishments were to sit with him and the other party to talk it out.

On the battlefield, Optimus had been trying to talk to Megatron for an age. Before blows were exchanged, before blood hit the ground, he would try. It would fail, and Optimus would fight to subdue.

Shifting uncomfortably on his pedes, Prowl glanced back at Optimus. The Prime had sunk into recharge, systems hitching around his injuries. The Prime had built a team from a group of ragged domestics and the odd warriors that hadn’t gone to… That had not viewed those domestics as the enemy. Prowl had not noticed him building from his early mistakes. He had not seen Optimus learning from his people. Prowl had been angry and cold and defensive.

Lowering his panels and tucking them behind him, Prow unfolded his arms and rested a light hand over Optimus’. The strong grip that caught his hand startled him. Glimmering in the relative dimness, Optimus’ gaze rested heavily on him as he looked up. The Prime’s voice rumbled, soft and resonant. “We’ll be all right, Prowl. I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.”

“I believe you,” Prowl whispered after an interminable pause. “I believe in you, Prime.”


	3. Round Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Dreamwidth [tf_rare_pairing community](http://tf-rare-pairing.dreamwidth.org/) for the prompt: Prowl/Sunstreaker: pride goeth before a fall

Dangling upside down by his left leg had not been part of his plans this morning.

A cup of fuel lanced with a mild stimulant, a morning full of trying to focus on his growing stack of work, and perhaps if he were very lucky, an engagement of adult games with his lover. Flying through the air, Prowl's presence of mind kept his gun tightly gripped in one hand and braced his free pede against the gigantic hand clutching his pede. He shoved with everything he had, but his frame prioritized speed over strength. His body swung, and Prowl tried to point his weapon at Devastator's torso. The combiner shook him, and Prowl lost his gun. Something had _snapped_. Several somethings from the onslaught of warnings in his head.

"Yo, Underclock! You, without the processor! Hey, dumb aft! Did you let Ravage design your face?"

Struggling in Devastator's hold, Prowl tried to catch a glimpse of the voice's owner. Prowl didn't know what Sunstreaker was doing, but as Devastator spun around, and jerked Prowl along with him, Prowl's tactically minded processor informed him that Sunstreaker was going to get them all killed.

"Is that your tailpipe way up there? 'Cause it's spoutin' ash an' slag, mech." Sunstreaker stood there, calm as could be, looking up at Devastator. Weapon barrel lowered, hand on his cocked hip, and a gorgeous, self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face. "Might wanna see to that. Oh. And put him down."

"Never!" And then, not known for his great intelligence in this mode, Devastator _flung_ Prowl through the air in a broad hyperbolic trajectory. With that much mass and power behind the throw, Prowl calculated that he would actually shatter against the ground. Without even the time to flail wildly, he tried to shunt everything into an emergency shut down. He didn't have to be awake to die; he saw no pride or honor in suffering needlessly. Just as he went under, his sensory network screamed about claws in his auxiliary panels.

Seven hours later, he came up in a slow, controlled medical reboot. And his everything hurt. Opening the one primary optic that responded to his query, he peered at the ceiling of Ratchet's medical suite on the Ark. Sunstreaker stood beside the gurney next to Prowl's. Swoop lay on the gurney, relaxed in recharge, as Sunstreaker stroked the curve of Swoop's alt mode head with his remaining hand. The opposite arm ended in capped wires and clamped hoses. Prowl's vocalizer produced garbled static on his first query. On his second attemmpt, he said "We are both alive?"

"Yeah. Swoop caught you. Some fancy flyin' he did. Ratchet says he wants to keep you a couple of days, though."

"Devastator did not kill you?" Prowl's diagnostic delivered its stark report of his damages. Swoop may have saved him from shattering, but they had both apparently hit the ground hard. "You taunted him."

"Hmm." Sunstreaker turned to look down at Prowl. That glorious smirk curved his mouth again. "While he paid attention to me, Si got under his pedes. Underclocked pile of bolts tripped on him."

Prowl took a moment to process that. Then he chuckled. "Thank you. Is he in one piece?"

"Sideswipe’s fine. He’s sleeping surgery off in the triage with the rest." Sunstreaker reached out with his remaining hand to grasp one of Prowl's. “I love you,”

Prowl squeezed that hand tightly. "And I am a lucky mech."

"You don't believe in luck."

"Hmm. Stay with me tonight?"

"Ratchet said I could. He wants to look at my arm tomorrow, anyway," Sunstreaker replied.

"Good." Prowl closed his optics. "I will rest."

"Prowl?"

"I love you."

And he knew without looking that Sunstreaker smiled.


End file.
